Missing Him
by Electronic Ink 0
Summary: Post-BoO. A series of one-shots about how the Seven of the Prophecy feel about the events of the last book. Spoiler warning!
1. HAZEL

I

HAZEL

She missed him.

Hazel looked despondently at the mahogany frame of her stupid bunk. She couldn't get the image out of her mind; it was like it had been scorched into her retinas. Golden fire exploding across the sky, devouring every cloud, every spot of blue sky. The thrum of power being released, the energy of Gaia echoing like a chord on some cosmic guitar, reverberating through her being. The sound had been so loud that it would have blocked out any other noises; the shout of Gaia, the grinding of metal… Leo's scream.

It was like Sammy all over again. Sure, she hadn't felt that way about Leo, but still… she remembered when she had gone memory-walking with Leo, and had seen Sammy for the last time. That guilty look Sammy's eyes had held when he spoke of Hazel; the demigod was pretty sure that the same look was mirrored in her eyes now.

Maybe it was because she was a daughter of Pluto, but she could practically smell it. It was a dark, smoky scent; not bad, not good, just _there, _and it smelled of Mist and shadows and _death. _And worst of all was the slight scent accompanying it; a smell of metal, rust and copper, the smell of fire. It was torturous, because she knew exactly what it meant. Leo was dead, and there was nothing she could do.

Hazel sat up. There was no way she would sleep. She fumbled in her bag beside her bed and her fingers closed around three objects. The first was a torch, the second a pencil, and the third her sketch pad. She huddled under the blankets and clicked the torch on. As usual, the amount of light shining out of the end startled her. It was amazing how so much light came out of something no bigger than her finger. She flipped her sketch pad open to a new page and began to draw. Time passed with no meaning, and images poured like water out of the pencil.

Leo standing at the prow of the _Argo II_, his hair and beloved army fatigue jacket blowing in a wind that existed only on the paper; mouth open mid-word and one hand, holding a Fonzie, waving for emphasis. Festus was blowing smoke happily behind him.

Leo with his arms around Jason and Piper, eyes glittering mischievously, Piper smirking and Jason awkwardly pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Leo covered in beans, looking dishevelled and distinctly unimpressed. He had been holding a can of beans to make his signature tacos when his hands had unexpectedly lit up and the can had quite literally exploded, beans flying everywhere.

Leo with a finger up to his mouth, sneaking into Annabeth's cabin, wearing a stupid hat that appeared to be a cross between Mexican cuisine and a Santa's cap, holding a taco.

Leo, sitting at a table, his eyes looking far away and one hand on the table, fingers slightly blurred as they tapped away. Tap, tap, tap, always moving, always twitching. It had scared her when they rescued him in Malta, and he was perfectly still. It scared her now, that his fingers would be totally still forever. A horrifying thought occurred to Hazel; considering how he had died, would he even _have _fingers anymore? Would he have gotten them back in the Underworld? There would be no doubt that Leo was in Elysium, probably annoying the heck out of Odysseus and King Aeneas.

Hazel flipped forwards one more page. This one would be something she had never seen herself, but a wish and a prayer. She could remember with vivid clarity the lost look in Leo's eyes in Malta; and she could tell that he was heartsick. She had stared at that look in the mirror for far too long; at least until Frank joined the legion. She swore to herself then and there- she had let one Valdez die pining, she wouldn't let this one.

But she had. All of her posturing and charcoal drawings and demands of _'Spill'_ hadn't helped at all. He had still died, alone, and Calypso would be alone again. Hazel remembered the slightly ticked off tone of voice Leo had used when describing how Percy had totally forgotten about Calypso, leaving her on Ogygia after _promising _he would help her. She could almost hear Leo now; _dang, now I've gone and done the same thing! Except I'm dead! I hate that about me!_

She traced out two figures, side by side, and for good measure sketched in the fully functional Festus behind them. Then she looked at her creation. Leo and Calypso stood beside each other, holding hands. Then she stood up.

o~0~O~0~o

_"__Come on, Hazel!" Sammy laughed, dragging her along._

_"__What are you doing? Sammy!" she giggled in response, following the impish teen. Soon he stopped beside a small campfire. "What, you want me to camp out with you?" she asked in disbelief._

_"__No," Sammy said dramatically, producing a piece of paper and mock-bowing, offering it to her along with a crayon._

_"__What are these for?" she asked, confused._

_"__Write something on it," he responded. "Make a wish. Then you throw it in the fire."_

_"__To signify it never coming true?"_

_"__No, pessimist! So that the smoke goes up to the stars and tells them what you want!"_

_"__If you say so," Hazel smiled, and wrote a quick sentence on it, then looked at Sammy. "What did you write?"_

_"__Not telling," he smirked, before tossing the paper into the fire. It seemed a bit of a waste to Hazel, but she followed suit and watched the wish burn, and all that she could think was that it was beautiful._

o~0~O~0~o

She peeked out from under the sheets, turning off her torch. Nico was asleep, which was good. She slipped out of her bed, bare toes lightly touching the ground, and, slipping on some shoes, tiptoed outside. She walked, really hoping that the harpies that she had heard about wouldn't attack her. Apparently Camp Half-Blood had a curfew. She eventually found the campfire, which was smouldering quietly. When she stepped into range, it sparked to life, burning in a desolate grayish-blue colour. She breathed in, took two steps forwards and threw the paper into the fire. Golden sparks leaped around it, and for a moment the fire resembled a lit hand grasping the drawing, before becoming just fire once again.

"For Leo," Hazel muttered, before turning back around and heading back to her cabin.


	2. FRANK

II

FRANK

_"__Well done, Frank Zhang. That's exactly how people beat Chinese Handcuffs. They turn into iguanas."_

Frank turned the handcuffs over in his hands. He could hear it, over and over.

_Well done, Frank Zhang. They turn into iguanas. Well done. Iguanas. Handcuffs. Exactly how. Frank Zhang. _

He twisted the handcuffs miserably. He looked at the twisted braid of paper, and in instinct he slid his hands through the openings, and attempted to pull them out with force. Nothing happened. Then he slid them out neatly, the way Annabeth had taught him. Maybe Frank hadn't been the only one listening in.

Leo had _planned _for his own death. He knew someone was going to die and he made arrangements so it would be him. Frank had had his differences with Leo, but the annoying _graecus _had turned out to be much more resourceful than anyone had expected.

_You don't pull your hands out. You push them further in. To loosen the straps._

Leo hadn't tried full-out to keep everyone out of the way. He had slipped in, allowed them all to feel confident, and then he had the _audacity _to die. Like it was some great honour that he was willing to fight dirty to get. He had tricked Frank and Hazel into helping him, but Frank wasn't stupid. Not even Leo the Fireproof could have survived that explosion. It was so laced with Imperial Gold that even if he had survived the initial blast, the godly metal would have poisoned him like arsenic. They had seen what that stab wound had done to Jason, and that wound had been doused with nectar right away.

Frank felt like he had been handcuffed. He was stuck, lashed to a post made of guilt. He should have seen it coming. If he hadn't been so… so _stupid, _so _reckless, _so _naïve, _Leo might still be alive. It was so difficult to comprehend. One of the Seven was _dead. _They had gone through so much together, fought so many battles, _won _so many battles, but in the end Gaia had gotten the trumps on them all. She had managed to take one of them with her into oblivion.

And that scheming, foul, _evil _Octavian had sealed Leo's fate. If there hadn't been that much Imperial Gold in the explosion, maybe Leo would have been… in enough of one piece to take the Physician's Cure. The poor demigod was practically _vaporised…_ and Frank hated it. He had thought it was bad when his mother had been killed in war. He had thought it was bad when Gwen, one of the centurions, had died in front of his eyes. He thought it was bad when Percy and Annabeth had fallen into freaking _Tartarus. _But the fact that he didn't even get to say _goodbye,_ or _good luck _or even _thank you _was worse than all that. When he thought about it, his mother had lived her life. Gwen had come back. Percy and Annabeth had made it, scarred but alive. But Leo… he had died young, a child really. Frank knew it was one of the cold facts of a demigod's existence; most didn't live past twenty. But Leo had been killed in the only place he had dared to call home, on the back of his best friend, having just saved the people he loved. It was nothing short of _cruel. _Frank wanted to give the three Fates a good smack. As long as they weren't holding their brass clubs…

Frank had never thought he would miss the sounds of Mars/Ares in his head, but right now he did. Because in their place was Leo Valdez, smirking, winking, making tacos and hammering away at something.

_Surrender! You are surrounded by one spanking hot war machine!_

_No, stupid. You're a Percy. I'm a Leo._

_Oo-kay. The Spartans were freaks. Of course, we've got Victory tied up downstairs, so I guess we can't talk._

_Thank the gods and pass the hot sauce._

_It means pass the hot sauce, Zhang. I'm hungry._

Frank looked up.

"Oh, gods, why did Leo have to die?" he murmured miserably. However much Leo had been irritating, infuriating, rude, and just plain _stupid, _the kid was amazing.

"Because that's war for you," a voice said behind him. Frank spun.

Striding towards him like it was a walk in the park was Mars. Frank was never sure how to react to that. Was he meant to say 'Hey, dad!' or genuflect? He took option three; neither.

"Well, don't just stand there," Mars said crossly. Frank feebly raised a hand.

"Anyway. You asked, I'll answer. That kid died because he was willing."

"Don't be-" Frank cut himself off. It probably wasn't a good idea to insult his immortal warrior ninja father.

"Stupid?" Mars suggested helpfully.

"Um… yeah," Frank said awkwardly. Mars crossed his arms and tilted his head, like; _Carry on. _"No-one's ever willing to die. Not even you… no offense."

"None taken, kid. But that's what made your friend special. Not many mortals I've ever seen were accepting of Death. You wouldn't believe how many times Thanatos' nose has been broken thanks to struggling spirits. Your boy was calmer than most. Falling in the middle of a blazing firestorm, on the back of a dragon, having just vanquished the greatest evil imaginable… he did a pretty good job, all things considered."

Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying that… did you just say Leo was braver than you?"

Mars scowled.

"Repeat it and I will incinerate you, son or no. Especially, _especially _to Jackson. Not a word."

Frank smiled. Maybe that had been his problem all along. Leo had been too brave. Even for the god of war. But there was nothing wrong with being brave. Leo was _brave._

Braver than the god of war. Braver than Gaia. Braver than _all _the gods.

Braver than Frank.


End file.
